


Too Many Stars and Not Enough Sunshine

by Sunshineditty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, F/M, Multi, POV Female Character, Threesome - F/M/M, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshineditty/pseuds/Sunshineditty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They shared everything before Sam left. Why should it be any different now the boys are back together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Stars and Not Enough Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> The women in Supernatural never seem to last long in person, but their memories definitely leave a lasting mark on the boys. This came to me when I was rewatching the first episode and it struck me as curious how Sam didn't react at all to Dean flirting with Jess. Sure it could've been because he was distracted by his brother's presence or a million other things, but the slightly darker side of me contended it was because he was used to it, though I wasn't sure if my Muse meant sharing _Dean_ with girls or girls with Dean. I don't normally write sex in my stories - not because I have anything against it but because I always feel it skates too close to purple prose - so it's not going to be too explicit.

Jess wondered at the intensity of Dean's words: "Dad's on a hunting trip. He hasn't been home in a few days." He'd been flirtatious and joking a moment ago, but now he'd completely shifted emotionally.

So did Sam.

He'd gone from exasperated young brother who was disdainful and dismissive of his father's absence to a tense dark-eyed stranger who quietly excused them from her presence.

She didn't know much about Sam's family, other than John's slide into alcoholism after the death of his wife Mary in a house fire when Sam was a baby, but the few times she'd gotten him to talk (usually after a beer or two), he'd always said running away from his home and family business was the best decision of his life. She suddenly feared Dean's presence, felt a prickling of precognition that things were about to change in drastic ways she wasn't prepared for.

So she said, "No, don't leave on my account. I'll just go into the other room."

"That would probably be best, sweetheart."

Jess glared at Dean, annoyed by his endearment. "It's Jess. Not honey, not dollface, and definitely not sweetheart."

The green-gold gaze slowly brushing down her lean body made her blush despite herself. She'd been a virgin when she started dating Sam, but not dead, blind, or stupid. Dean was the sort of boy all mamas warned their daughters against and the type that forced daddies to grab their shotguns. He was shorter than Sam by four inches, but still a few inches taller than her; this height difference made him loom over her, his broad shoulders shading her from the light behind him. She felt a thrill as he invaded her personal space, making her cuddle in deeper to Sam's side.

Ashamed by the attraction coursing through her, she risked a glance up at her boyfriend, but he was watching the two of them with half-closed eyes and a strange smile. If she didn't know any better she'd think he was enjoying how his brother was crowding her.

"Uh, well nice meeting you Dean. You plan on staying the night?"

His teeth were bright against the pale pink of his lips. "If you're issuing an invitation, it might be rude of me to resist."

Desperation forced her to remind him why he was here. It wasn't right the way he was practically fucking her with his eyes and issuing innuendos. "What about your dad?"

Immediately the sexual tension melted from the room as both males remembered the purpose of Dean's visit.

"Jess, you go on back to bed and I'll just step on outside with Dean."

Sam sounded normal again, the boy she fell in love with and she embraced him, pretending she didn't feel the lump of his erection as it pressed into her belly. It was disturbing, the vibes she was getting so she returned to their bedroom and lay down resolving to not think about what just happened.

However, her intentions didn't last long as her mind circled back to the problems of the last few months.

On his best days Sam was quiet and he could go hours without speaking, something she'd always chalked up to his intense studying habits, but lately there'd started to be a chilled distance between them she didn't know how to bridge. Her sex life with Sam was good, or so she'd always thought, but it wasn't like she had anything to compare it to. There were moments, however, where she could've sworn he was waiting for something, and always seemed disappointed when nothing happened.

_Could it be Dean?_

It was a shameful thought, one she immediately pushed away from her mind. Sam wasn't into that.

A moment later, the front door opened and she could hear voices, hushed as they were.

"Dude, she's smoking hot and you're just going to leave without anything?"

"Dean, she's not into that. She's different."

_Different?_

"Different?"

For a moment Jess was sure she'd spoken out loud, but then realized Dean had asked the same question at the same time.

"She's not like the others. She's pure and perfect."

"Perfect? That girl was practically panting when I looked at her. She's just our type, Sammy."

_Pure? Perfect? Panting?_

Jess was both affronted and confused: affronted by the sly amusement in Dean's voice and confused by what exactly they were talking about. Surely not what she was thinking. _Not Sam._

"Fine, whatever Sammy. You do what you will, but you are coming with me. You have to."

"Yeah, I said I would. Let me pack a bag."

Jess forgot about pretending she wasn't asleep and sat up when Sam stumbled into the bedroom a moment later.

"You can turn on the light, baby."

Sam flicked the light switch, a sheepish smile on his face. It was the boyish one she was used to, but suddenly she felt like she was viewing a stranger.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He turned away from her and opened up their closet, pulling out a small black bag he'd always stored in there, but she'd never seen him use. There was silence in the room as he quickly started folding clothes and putting them in.

Finally she couldn't take it anymore and slipped off the bed so she stood next to her boyfriend.

"Wait you're taking off. Is this about your dad? Is he alright?"

"Yeah. You know, a little family drama."

It was said in a self-deprecating tone, as if this was normal. Well, it was, if it were anyone else but Sam. He rarely spoke about his family, they never called or wrote, and suddenly he was leaving to go help find his dad based on his brother's word?

_What the hell was going on?_

"Your brother said he was on some kind of hunting trip?"

"Oh yeah, he's just deer hunting up at the cabin. He's probably got Jim, Jack, and Jose along with him. We're just going to go bring him back."

The bitterness flavoring his words was more familiar, but panic was beginning to take hold of her.

"What about the interview?"

"I'll make the interview. This is only for a couple of days."

Jess put her hand up to his face, curving her palm around his cheek with the deep dimple.

"Sam please, just stop for a second. You're sure you're okay?"

His, "I'm fine" was less than convincing. And finally she'd had enough.

"It's just you won't even talk about your family and now you're just taking off in the middle of the night to spend the weekend with them? And with Monday coming up, which is kinda of a huge deal."

"Hey, everything is going to be okay. I will be back in time I promise."

"At least tell me where you're going."

"He'll be with me, sweetheart."

Dean's voice stroked across her skin in an almost tangible caress, which did nothing to quiet Jess' nerves; everything about tonight was upside down crazy and started with his arrival. Whatever deep dark mystery he was caught up in was reaching out to affect her life and Jess wasn't going to take it lying down.

She took three long strides from her place next to Sam and slapped Dean across the face with her strength. While she wasn't Mike Tyson, she wasn't a wilting flower either and used her whole body with the hit. Dean's head moved but he didn't even spill the opened beer in his hand.

He rotated his head around, moving his jaw back and forth, but it was the look in his eyes that scared her: feral lust.

"I like her, Sammy. Can we keep her?"

"Dean no. We talked about it. She's not like that."

Jess looked up from rubbing her hand, the palm stinging with the impression of scratchy flesh, and caught the significant look passing between the brothers.

"Ok seriously, what the hell is going on? You two are all mysterious and keep having a conversation in a conversation and I'm sick of it. What do you want of me?"

Dean walked closer, all lazy loose-hipped grace, two fingers curled around the neck of the bottle. She'd seen guys like him in movies and t.v. shows, not in real life. His dark blond hair and green eyes should've made him look the complete opposite of her hazel-eyed, dark-haired Sam, but there was a marked resemblance in their facial structure, lanky bodies, and brooding beauty.

"Sammy and I grew up very close. What was mine was his and vice versa." Dean's eyes traveled over her again, visually stripping her. "And I haven't had what was his in a very long time."

"Dean…"

"Sam, don't lie to yourself any more. You've missed it, missed me." Dean put the beer down on the dresser, gently turning Jess around so her back was against his chest so she faced her boyfriend. "He loves watching."

Jess moaned a little, especially as she saw Sam's dilated eyes, his chest moving faster as he breathed deeper and harder. Desire and need was etched across his sudden expressive face, the blankness and distance she'd always known wiped away as if it never was. For the first time, she felt as if she were seeing beneath his mask to the true Sam Johnson. It was both liberating and scary because it took the presence of the hard man – in body and soul – behind her to bring out the Sam's hidden depths.

"How long?"

"How long what, sweetheart?"

"How long have you shared lovers? Do you…each other…?"

The ripple of muscle against her back alerted her to Dean's nearly inaudible chuckle.

"He started watching me with girls when he was old enough to know what his dick was for. And, no, we're not lovers. We don't do each other, if that's what you mean."

Jess mentally breathed a sigh of relief, unsure if she could've continued dating someone who willingly entered into such an immoral and disgusting relationship.

"Dean please stop."

"Why, Sammy? She's turned on, can't you tell? She loves the idea of two guys giving her pleasure."

Dean's fingers skimmed her bare waist, pressing her hips back so his dick was resting against her ass, a hot hard presence barely contained by her lightweight cotton sleep shorts and his heavy denim. Jess held her breath, determined not to react again, but couldn't contain her gasp when Dean pushed his hand beneath her shirt and palmed her breast, long fingers brushing around and around her nipple without actually touching it.

"Keep your eyes on Sam. He loves it when girls look at him while I'm touching them."

His whiskey-rough voice was pure decadence wrapped in sin as he whispered in her ear, directing her to share the physical responses she was experiencing with her boyfriend. Sam's eyes weren't on her face, however, but glued to the motions of his brother's hand, his own fingers clenching and releasing as if he too were touching her body in tandem.

Dean raised her arms up over her head until they were entwined around his neck before drawing her shirt up as well. The slightly chilled air in the apartment had puckered her nipples, and she squealed when Dean tweaked each one, the pain melting into pleasure when he petted them. He continued this for a few more minutes until she writhed against him, then dropped both hands to her waistband and pulled her shorts off. Jess had a moment to be grateful for shaving earlier in the day when getting prepared for the Halloween costume party at the bar and then her thoughts stopped when those wicked, wicked fingers separated her intimate wet flesh and plunged into her while his thumb rode the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

"Dean…" the low tortured tone belonged to Sam, but one Jess didn't recognize. His tanned face was flushed, mouth open, and one hand cupping himself through his jeans.

"Taste her, Sammy. Tell me what she tastes like."

One long scarred finger rose into the air, wet from her, and Sammy instantly leaned forward and sucked it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the digit, moaning in delight, and then let it leave with a pop.

"I need more."

"Ask nicely Sammy."

"Please…I'm begging you. I need it."

"Lick her clean."

Jess was pulled from her sensual haze long enough to wonder at their exchange, but forgot about it the instance Sam's tongue touched her. He loved going down on her, almost more than fucking her, but it was something she wasn't too comfortable with because she was always worried she wasn't clean enough down there. Tonight, however, Dean had commanded it be done and no one would gainsay him.

Her thighs quivered when Sam roughly shouldered his way between them until they were almost draped over him, his mouth devouring her. At any other time she might've been mortified by the slick wet sounds, but instead she reveled in it, enjoying how desperately hungry Sam seemed. Dean didn't let her forget him either, however, his fingers tugging on her nipples or spreading her lips for his brother's mouth. She wondered how far this would go, especially judging by the sizeable erection pressed against her, but then let go of all thought as her orgasm ripped through her and bowed her body.

When she recovered her wits, she found herself naked on the bed with a smirking Dean standing on one side and Sam on the other. She flushed when she realized Sam's lower face was gleaming from her.

"What was that about?"

"Goodbye…for now." Dean winked at her. "I'll definitely be seeing you soon."

Jess watched as he ambled out the door, marveling at her mental use of the word "amble." _Who actually did that? Dean Johnson apparently._

"I'm sorry."

Sam looked different again; his hair was sexily mussed, mouth stained from her, yet his eyes were soulful and sorrowful, as if he were waiting for her condemnation.

"I promised myself when I left him…them…behind I wouldn't do that again."

Yet despite not having entered her body in any meaningful way, beyond foreplay, he looked more satisfied than when they'd actually had intercourse. Her eyes widened when her gaze wandered down to the front of his jeans – he had a large wet spot as if he'd just come in his underwear. There was obviously a story and a kink she needed to know, especially if they were going to become even more serious, but for now she would just chalk this up to a new experience.

"I love you, Sam."

A genuine smile spread across his face and lit up his eyes. Jess wondered at the change, then realized though she'd been feeling it for a while now, she had never actually told him the words.

"I love you too."

"Now that this chick flick moment is over, can we get a move on?"

The interruption startled Jess, though she noticed Sam hadn't flinched as if he knew his brother would be there. _Maybe he did._

"You know, I'm really started to dislike you."

Dean smirked, the edge of his top lip curling. "Sweetheart, if you disliked me anymore I would've come in my pants like a twelve-year-old boy." He flicked an amused glance towards her boyfriend. "Or Sammy."

Sam moved then, his speed startling Jess as he tumbled her back onto the bed after she got up to attack Dean again.

"Dean, get out. We don't have time for this."

The brothers had another silent conversation with their eyes, and then Dean left this time the apartment rather than just their room.

"Jessica, I promise you I'll be back before Monday and we'll sit down and talk. K?"

Breathing deeply, she harnessed all of her emotions and reached up to embrace her boyfriend. "Ok," she responded and kissed him gently. She could wait a few more days to finally, finally get to the core of the man in her bed (and not invite his brother to join them. Maybe. She wasn't that girl. Right? Right?).

Saturday and Sunday flew by because Jess was determined to keep herself busy so she wouldn't have to think about what had (almost) happened. She'd never before fantasized about threesomes or anyone beside Sam, yet she hadn't stopped what happened. It had excited her, though shame filled her at the disloyal thought.

And if she lay on their bed, her legs spread, cunt wet and needy as she rubbed her clit, her other hand fisted against her mouth like she was choking on a large cock; well, that was just to get the edge off since Sam hadn't fucked her deep and hard like she needed. It wasn't as if she was actually wondering what Dean looked like nude or if he was uncut like his brother. That would make her a bad girlfriend and she wasn't that – she was perfect…just our kind.

Gah! Stop thinking about him…them…whatever!

The ringing of the phone interrupted her thoughts and she answered it with relief when she saw Sam's number flashing on her caller ID.

"Hey baby."

"Hey Jess. I just wanted to let you know I'm on my way back."

"How's your dad?"

"He's, uh, fine I guess. You know, false alarm."

Jess' brows furrowed at the hesitant pauses because Sam didn't sound like Sam. Almost like he was lying to her.

"You sure everything's okay? You sound weird."

There was a small silence, enough she could hear the rumbling of the car he was in, then Sam's quiet voice. "It's been a long weekend and things aren't really resolved here. Dad's being Dad and Dean Dean."

Jess wished she could understand what that meant.

"Uh, okay? Will you be back in time for your interview?"

"Yeah, I'll be late, but I'll be there. I don't break my promises lightly."

There was intensity in his voice she didn't understand, but it comforted her. "I love you Sammy."

He chuckled a little uncomfortably. "It's Sam, not Sammy. Only Dean ever calls me Sammy."

_And the only one allowed._

There was another silence, but she broke it before it stretched out too long. "So I'll see you when you get home."

"Love you, Jess."

"Love you too."

The call ended on a loving note, but Jess still couldn't get the strangeness of Sam's responses to her questions from her mind, so she figured she might as well stay up until he got home. She needed - no she deserved - answers to her questions and he was going to damn well respond.

A few hours later, but a little earlier than expected, she heard a knock at the door. It wasn't the first time Sam had forgotten his keys, nor would it be the last she figured, so she grabbed a robe from the back of the door and skipped to the door.

She opened it with a laugh and a teasing retort, but it was silenced by the tall trench-coated stranger filling the doorway.

"Eep! You're not Sam."

The stranger cocked his head at her and stared at her in apparent puzzlement.

"It's amazing how much you resemble her. And here I thought he was too young to know what she looked like. I guess he's more like his daddy than I thought."

"Excuse me?" Fear tightened her throat as she realized it was really late, she was nearly naked, and this stranger had placed his foot against the door so she couldn't slam it in his face.

"I'm trying to understand the mind of Sam Winchester. See why he left his life for _this_."

The vitriolic disdain in his voice splashed over her and burned her even as she didn't really understand what was going on.

_Wait, Winchester?_

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong apartment. This is where Sam Johnson lives, not Sam Winchester."

The words were weighted with relief and she felt her hunched shoulders relax as logic and reason came to her rescue, momentarily blunting the trickle of uneasiness beginning to fog her senses.

The stranger pushed past her into the apartment, the door strangely slamming behind him though neither of them touched it. Jess felt a cold chill ripple down her spine as her hind brain said screw this, you're in danger! Move, move move!

"Oh, no I'm not mistaken, sweetheart; I always know where my precious child is at all times despite his father's attempts to throw me off the trail." He whirled around, the light hitting his face and Jess could see there was something subtly wrong with his features. "It's you who is mistaken. Sam Johnson doesn't exist; your lover boy is one Samuel Colton Winchester, son of John Adam Winchester and younger brother to Dean Horace Winchester."

She didn't know why she believed him, but she had no doubt he was telling her the truth. The ringing conviction in his voice combined with the memories of the weird moue Sam always made whenever he had to use his full name: _as if it wasn't really his name!_

"Well, he's not here."

"Oh, I know, Jessica Lee Moore. But I am. And so is Brady."

Jessica whirled around, shocked to see her friend Brady Fordman standing in the doorway, the light playing tricks on her because his eyes looked black. Not as if his pupils had expanded, but opaque black from corner to corner.

It was when the stranger turned and stuck his face close to hers that Jess finally saw what was different about him: his eyes were putrid bile yellow, an inhuman color, something not of this world though she wasn't sure why that description popped into her mind.

She tensed and started to run towards the bedroom, but suddenly Brady was there in front of the door, the familiar grin twisted into a mockery of it. The older thing grasped her arms behind her back and pulled them tight until her shoulders felt like they were being wrenched out of the socket.

"And where do you think you're going, Jessie? We're just getting comfortable here."

"Sam will be home soon so you should leave."

"That's what we're hoping for, Sam to come home. Maybe even have his guard dog with him."

 _Dean?_ Jess knew her confusion must've shown through her pain because Brady cackled – _who does that?_ – and nodded.

"Oh trust me, Jessie, we know the Winchester boys. They're a big topic of convo where we're from."

Rough lips brushed the sensitive swell of her ear – "Hell, just in case you're wondering where we're from. We're from Hell."

Brady pulled a knife from behind his back, the large curved blade dull with age and crusted over with what Jess instinctively knew was dried blood.

"Normally Azaziel here doesn't need paltry weapons when playing, but this here is a special knife. It's the same knife he used to slice up your precious Sam's mother." Her former friend grinned, his teeth somehow looking pointed and red, though that could've been a trick of the light. "He ever tell you why he's homeless? His mama came into the nursery at the wrong time when he was just a baby, and she had to be taught a lesson."

Though he didn't say it, Jess knew the blood on the knife was from Sam's mother. She bowed her head and finally surrendered to the tears pressing against her lashes; she should fight, kick, scream, but defeat weighed heavily on her.

"At least Mary struggled. You're pathetic."

Her shoulders were yanked back even further as Brady leaned forward stroked his tongue over her eyebrows, sliming his way over the bridge of her nose and ended at her lips. His teeth bit at her mouth until she opened with a pained gasp, choking when he shoved inside, the muscle feeling much longer and wider than should be normal. The coppery taste of blood and rotten eggs lingered on her taste buds until she feared she'd aspirate on her vomit.

The creature wearing her friend's body like a Halloween costume drew back with a smirk then plunged the knife into her stomach. Burning, ripping, tearing, crimson liquid shuddering through the gaping holes in her flesh, and it was only Azaziel's grip on her shoulders that kept her upright through the excruciating pain.

"I want to fuck you with this knife, see how deep I can open you up, bathe in your screams and eat your entrails, but Azzy won't let me play with you."

"Patience, my apprentice. Soon you'll be carving John's boys instead."

Jess was barely aware of the conversation swirling around her head as she was too busy staring at the ruins of her white nightgown. Part of her dully noted the blood stains and knew she'd never get them out of the fabric – if she tried, she'd need a whole tub of hydrogen peroxide. A smaller part of her brain pointed out the absurdity of her thoughts and tried to redirect her to the abstract patterns her organs were making outside her body, but fortunately for her, the trauma proved too much and everything just sort of shut down.

But not before one last emotion – regret – flickered in her heart as now she would never get to learn all of Sam's secrets.

**Author's Note:**

> A good portion of the dialogue is lifted directly from the pilot.


End file.
